synopsis: ever since you started tutoring neil in acting, you've been convinced he's absolutely terrible. but when your dad casually mentions neil’s got a play today, you realize you might've been played all along
content warnings: fluff, neil being a little menace, mutual pining
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 928
You were hunched over a pile of scripts, watching Neil Perry give another, well, unique interpretation of a soliloquy. His voice cracked with emotion, but… in all the wrong places.
"To be or not to be…" Neil began, attempting Shakespeare with the passion of a man on a mission. Unfortunately, that mission seemed to involve single-handedly destroying the Bard’s finest work.
You let out a long sigh, head in your hands. "Neil, what was that?"
He stopped mid-line, flashing you a sheepish grin. "Was it really that bad?"
You nodded gravely. "Like… epically bad."
Neil chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Great. Then I’ll take it from the top?"
"For the fifteenth time today?" you groaned, shaking your head. "I don’t know how you’re going to pull this off."
"I have you," he said, flashing a confident smile.
That line always got to you. Even if he was hopeless at this, his heart was in the right place. So, despite every fiber of your being telling you to give up and leave him to his stage fate, you stayed. You spent hours together in the Dead Poets' Cave, rehearsing line after line, hoping, praying for a miracle.
A few days later, you were leaving the house when you spotted your dad, Mr. Keating, all dressed up and heading for the door.
"Where are you going, Dad?" you asked, curious.
He glanced back at you with that trademark mysterious grin. "Oh, didn’t you know? Neil has a play today."
Your brain went into overdrive. Neil? The Neil Perry who couldn’t deliver a line to save his life? The same Neil who, just yesterday, had confused Hamlet’s death scene with some kind of impromptu interpretative dance?
"Uh… what are you talking about?" you asked, baffled. "Neil’s terrible at acting. I’ve spent hours tutoring him, Dad. Hours. He's a lost cause!"
Mr. Keating just raised his eyebrows and gave you the look. The one that said he knew something you didn’t. The one that made your stomach drop with realization.
Oh.
Oh.
"Wait…" you stared at him, wide-eyed. "Are you telling me—Neil’s been… pretending to be terrible this whole time?"
Keating chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "He wanted more time with his tutor."
Your face flushed instantly. "I—I’m gonna kill him!" you sputtered, grabbing your coat in a rush. "He’s been wasting my time on purpose?"
Keating just smiled knowingly. "I think you’ll want to see the play first."
You stormed into the auditorium just in time to catch Neil on stage, and what you saw nearly knocked you off your feet. There he was, front and center, commanding the stage with ease, delivering lines with power and grace. His timing was impeccable, his emotions raw and palpable. The audience was absolutely enchanted. He was… perfect.
Your mouth hung open in shock. You had spent hours trying to get him to say one line right, and here he was, playing his role like he was born for it. You could barely process what you were seeing.
As the curtain fell and applause erupted around you, you pushed your way backstage, still fuming but also feeling a tiny bit impressed. Neil had some explaining to do.
When you found him, he was in his dressing room, still in costume, grinning like a little kid who had just gotten away with something massive.
"You…" you pointed an accusing finger at him, words failing you. "You’ve been acting like you couldn’t act?"
Neil smirked, casually leaning against the wall. "It worked, didn’t it? We got to spend more time together."
You sputtered, torn between being completely exasperated and, well, flattered. "Neil!"
He stepped closer, his grin softening into something more genuine. "I couldn’t help it. I needed an excuse. You’re a great tutor, by the way."
Your face flushed hot, and you crossed your arms, trying to hold onto your anger. "You’re insufferable."
"And yet, you’re still here," he teased, his voice warm and playful.
You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile creeping onto your face. "So, let me get this straight—you’re actually good at this? You just made me sit through hours of you being awful on purpose?"
He nodded sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "I might’ve… exaggerated my incompetence. A little."
"A little?" you exclaimed, laughing despite yourself.
Neil stepped closer again, his eyes soft with affection. "It worked, though, didn’t it? I got to spend time with you. And… I think it’s safe to say I learned more than just acting."
You shook your head, half annoyed, half charmed. "You’re ridiculous, Neil Perry."
He beamed at you, stepping even closer, the warmth of his presence making your heart flutter. "But you like me that way, right?"
You opened your mouth to protest, but Neil leaned in, catching you off guard as he whispered, "Admit it."
You narrowed your eyes playfully, trying to maintain the upper hand. "Fine. But next time, maybe just ask me to hang out. You know, like a normal person?"
Neil laughed, the sound rich and contagious. "Deal. But you have to admit, my method was more fun."
You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension evaporating as you finally allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. “I hate how much I like you.”
He grinned, clearly thrilled by your confession. "Likewise."
The two of you stood there for a moment, grinning like fools, and you couldn't help but think that, even if he'd tricked you, it was worth it.
After all, he really did put on one heck of a show.
summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.
idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k
warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3
> in which masterlist!
note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")
—
“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”
jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.
he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.
he gasps.
“baby, you’re alive!”
your swollen eyes flicker up to him.
you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.
“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”
you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.
he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.
the bathroom door opens and closes.
he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”
still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.
he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.
“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”
he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.
“baby? may i go in?”
he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.
huh? why is it locked?
you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.
“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”
with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.
he doesn’t go far, however.
only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.
“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”
he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.
“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”
he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.
“____!”
he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.
“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”
he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.
“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.
he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.
only after the first try, that much is clear.
and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.
the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.
when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.
the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.
there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.
his voice cracks, breathless.
“baby, no… no, no, no.”
he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.
keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.
he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.
“____, can you hear me?!”
his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.
he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.
“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.
he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.
“baby…”
he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.
almost.
at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.
“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.
for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”
he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.
he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.
once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.
any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.
if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.
but you’re not.
jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.
—
your body feels like it’s floating.
are you dreaming…?
you must be dreaming.
you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.
the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.
your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.
you want to sleep a little more.
you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.
you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?
just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.
—
jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.
it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.
“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”
“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”
you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.
“ah, i should call the doctor.”
but his face remains buried in your hair.
“they told me to do so.”
“you should-”
“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”
“chill. you said that they told you to.”
“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”
he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.
you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”
fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.
“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”
“i love you more.”
you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.
his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.
“bam!”
oh, right. your child.
“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.
you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”
you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?
“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”
—
the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.
is there any other building sadder than this?
if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?
if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.
you see love in every place that you step foot into.
his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.
not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.
he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.
how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.
“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”
his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.
in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.
he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.
how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.
—
“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”
“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”
“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”
“not at all. don’t worry.”
you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”
“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”
he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”
you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.
if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.
“how was the doctor?”
“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”
you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”
he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”
“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”
“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.
he heaves a sigh.
“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”
the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.
“you’re right. i’m sorry.”
“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”
you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”
your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.
“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”
“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”
your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?
“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.
his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.
“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”
you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.
“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”
and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.
“what do they need that for?!”
he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.
“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”
“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.
“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”
you grimace. “am i scary?”
“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”
as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.
“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.
your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.
“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”
“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”
“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”
—
“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.
you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.
jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.
“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.
he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.
“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”
he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.
“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”
with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”
“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.
silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.
you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”
“few? you mean a loooot?”
“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”
“you told me you wanted the service bell!”
you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.
did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?
perhaps.
“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”
“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”
his lover?
jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.
“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”
a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.
“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”
—
“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”
you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.
“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”
you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.
“eeeee!”
he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.
“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.
left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.
“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.
he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.
this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.
with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.
“okay, spit.”
you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.
“ahhhh-”
“this is embarrassing!”
“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”
and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.
“see? was that so bad?”
as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.
“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.
you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.
“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”
“it’s your fault.”
you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.
“you’re so sweet.”
the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.
“am i making you sad?”
you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.
“no?”
“no!”
“okay, come here then.”
he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.
“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”
“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”
“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.
“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.
“what…?”
“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”
you pout. “are you really?”
“oh, come onnnn.”
he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.
“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”
to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.
you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.
“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”
his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”
“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”
—
“did you not hurt yourself?”
“me?”
“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”
you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.
“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”
that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.
“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”
“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”
“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”
he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.
“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”
“i guess that’s fine.”
it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.
from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”
as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.
“baby, someone can enter any minute.”
“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.
you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.
“i’m curious about another thing.”
“what’s that?”
“did you cry?”
he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.
“almost…”
“why almost?”
“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.
you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”
“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”
“ow-”
your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.
“red panda!”
a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.
“i want one so fucking bad.”
the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”
—
jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.
“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”
“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.
his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.
“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”
“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”
she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.
“you look adorable sleeping.”
“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”
he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.
your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”
“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”
“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”
she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?
“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”
you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.
“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”
she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.
“you know where this goes.”
she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.
“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”
“it’s fine. thank you.”
not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.
“i’ll draw your blood now.”
the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.
another one, jungkook laments inside.
“____, i’m right here.”
you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”
“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”
you take a sharp inhale.
if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.
“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”
really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.
“hey, baby. look at the tv.”
the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.
“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”
“of course!”
that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.
“all done. you can go back to resting.”
“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.
“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”
“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”
“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.
the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”
“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”
“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”
“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”
“i won’t!”
“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”
“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”
“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”
the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.
uh-oh.
“did she seriously wink while saying that?”
“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”
“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.
“right?!”
he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.
“that was weird.”
“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”
“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”
you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”
“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”
“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”
“and so what?”
he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.
“i’m obviously yours.”
but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.
“it’s so annoying.”
the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.
“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”
it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.
“i love you.”
almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.
“no, there’s no need for that.”
but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.
“are you sure?”
“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”
of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.
“and how will you do that?”
“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”
—
“come up with what?”
to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.
“mom…?”
you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.
“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.
“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”
“but you don’t have to because you have us.”
jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.
her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.
“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”
“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”
jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.
“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”
“it’s not only because i’m worried!”
she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.
“then what else?”
“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”
did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.
“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”
you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.
“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”
—
“does my son feed you well?”
“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”
you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.
“is that so?”
you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.
“mhmm!”
perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.
“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”
“what could that be?”
“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”
because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.
she utters your name sadly.
“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”
she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.
“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”
“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”
“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”
because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.
“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”
you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.
“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”
you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.
“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”
“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”
if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.
you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”
what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.
“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”
“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”
she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.
“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”
the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.
“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”
“thank you…”
“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”
she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.
“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.
“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”
—
you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.
the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.
you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.
you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.
at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.
your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.
“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.
you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.
you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?
“baby!”
you look behind to search for the source of the sound.
you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.
you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.
you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.
oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.
you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.
god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.
a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.
“i committed another crime for you today.”
“huh?”
your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.
hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?
“what did you do?”
his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.
…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.
you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.
“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”
“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”
“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”
he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.
as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.
“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”
“are you crazy?!”
the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”
“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”
“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.
you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.
seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.
passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.
how fucking great.
“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.
“a-ah, yes.”
you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.
“i will check your temperature too.”
“go on.”
you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.
“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”
jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.
“i wanted to smell the rain.”
“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”
you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”
you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.
“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”
“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”
“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”
“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.
so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.
“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”
his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.
“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”
“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”
“i feel fine though?”
“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”
seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.
but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.
“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.
“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”
your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”
“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”
you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.
“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”
“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”
—
“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”
you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”
damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?
were you serious about the no kiss rule?
“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”
he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”
“you want to see me that furious again?”
“never in my wildest dreams.”
he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.
“here, have some more cake.”
he offers you a spoonful of cake.
no, it’s bigger.
as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.
you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.
oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.
your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.
also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.
“your nails look pretty.”
he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.
“your mom did them for me.”
“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”
the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.
“did you choose white?”
“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”
oh, that makes total sense.
“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”
“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.
his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.
“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”
“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”
your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.
“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”
the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.
“i’m so happy with what we have.”
you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.
could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?
“is there anything else i could assist you with?”
and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.
“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.
he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.
“please come to our wedding.”
the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.
he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”
the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.
before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.
your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.
damn it, you wish she was also here for that.
“you haven’t stopped smiling.”
“you love me and you never let me forget that.”
you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.
you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.
jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.
“i’m so lucky. i love you.”
you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.
“i love you too.”
he cries infront of you.
almost.
he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.
you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
jbbartram-illu
germansingergirl
